


From the Depths (I Raise You Up)

by AmalgamOfFaces



Series: Luminerik Darkspawn AU #1 [1]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, But forgive me if I focus on Luminerik, Darkspawn AU, Dragon Quest XI Act I Spoilers, General spoilers, If the Luminary is OOC it's because he's basically a different person, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Luminary is named Elian, M/M, Minor Character Death, Most everyone will show up eventually, Not Canon Compliant, She cares about her Luminary very much, Slow Burn, Swearing, Technically Canon was messed with before Heliodor too, This fic is gonna go through Heliodor and then take a sharp left away from canon, Yggsdrasil is a Presence, and by that I mean maybe 3 chapters before the E stuff, erotic healing, will not follow the canon plot I cannot Emphasize this enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmalgamOfFaces/pseuds/AmalgamOfFaces
Summary: Elian has zero interest in being the Luminary: The Great Hero of Legend and All Things Good and Pure, and the voice in his head says that that's just fine. That doesn't mean that he can't save anyone. Just that he'll do it in his own way, in his own time, and only if he doesn't have anything better to do. But man, is this king really getting on his nerves....At least there are some perks.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Luminerik Darkspawn AU #1 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845727
Comments: 67
Kudos: 59





	1. The Obligatory Hero's Quest That Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> *Flips self out of sick bed and types as fast as possible while the Inspiration fuels me*

_Far, far too soon since She lovingly and painstakingly poured life and light into a precious bud, deep within the heart of Herself, and bestowed the gift of Her most treasured one into the world below, did it fall from Her branches, not withered, but dead all the same. It had only just begun to take shape, to blossom to new life as She intended, before it was cruelly pruned, not by Her adversary (as if any were truly powerful enough to call themselves such) but by one of the many who would come, destroy, and pass away._

_How **dare** he?_

_Even as She took the newborn soul back into Her arms, hardly a year having breathed on its own, She promised to not leave Her precious Luminary so alone, so unprotected, **ever** again. She began to craft a new, fresh soul, weaving Her power and Her light and Her darkness in equal measure throughout._

_This one would last._

_She’d make sure of it._

* * *

Spring turned to Summer and began to fade into Autumn, but Elian still couldn’t force himself to go to Heliodor. No one in his small village rushed him. Day in and day out he lost himself to the monotony of daily chores, the fleeting echo of cheerful, meaningless chatter keeping him company against the backdrop of the ever-present warmth that blanketed his mind. The presence and Her rare words and far more common shared intent had kept him from harm when his mind drifted, detached from reality.

‘ _Enough.’_

The sudden shift back to clarity startled him, the colors too bright, the light, dim as it was, too harsh. Irritation warmed him from the inside out with bitter heat and a scowl crossed his face, even though he had nothing physical to glare at- no… that wasn’t quite right. It took him a moment to pinpoint in the darkened sky, but there She was: The Great Tree Yggdrasil, The Goddess of the Land, the current pain in the ass.

A touch of chiding amusement brushed against his mind, and Elian waited impatiently, wondering why She had called him back. If it was more Heroic Luminary nonsense, he’d much rather go back into the safety of nothingness. The villagers had finally given up mentioning it, he didn’t know if he could bear Her starting in on it. She’d always been so allowing, but he knew She would be impossible to ignore.

_‘No, child. Your destiny is not as the others perceive.’_

And just like that it felt like a great burden was lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe freely. If She said he was free to do as he pleased, no one else’s word mattered. He wouldn’t have to hide himself under the cover of assumed mourning to excuse himself from their expectations.

It was strange, but as soon as he no longer felt that he was required to make the journey, he felt driven to do so. With a haste he hadn’t expressed in months, Elian silently swept up and donned the previously untouched travelling gear, fingers near trembling as he buckled the straps into place. Forgoing even a horse for the noise, he stole into the night, with only his sword and a small pack of supplies by his side.

Pausing at the worn-down gate to Cobblestone, Elian briefly questioned his sudden impulsiveness. Just beyond the light of society he could make out the forms of small monsters roaming in the dark. Though they didn’t pose any real threat, he would still be leaving the ease and mindlessness of the known. For just a moment he considered packing it all up and staying, but the thought settled sour in the back of his throat, restlessness surging throughout his body. He needed to move, to act, to _do_ something, something of his own choosing.

_‘_ _S_ _omething important awaits you. It’s time to go.’_

With that final push, Elian drew his sword and stepped out into the field, fingers itching to cut down the first of many monsters that would come between himself and his goal.

* * *

All of the pomp and circumstance of the Heliodorian castle and its inhabitants was enough to make Elian want to turn and walk right back out. Were it not for the gentle mental prodding to proceed, and the frankly suspicious enthusiasm of the guards to point a complete stranger in the direction of the throne room, he may just have. Stealing into some side rooms and perhaps less than discreetly rummaging through anything not tied down or sturdy enough to keep him out helped to abate the nagging feeling that something was distinctly amiss. Only one particularly brave merchant told him off for trying to take whatever he’d brought for the king, and he was only saved by Elian’s lack of interest in actually stealing it from him.

Someone cleared her throat sharply behind him, and Elian quickly turned on his heel, hand halfway to drawing his sword out of instinct. After assessing the woman who had addressed him, he barely refrained from doing so anyway. A deadly looking spear strapped to her back and decked out in what could only be defined as a battle dress in rich purple, red, and gold, she looked effortlessly dangerous even without the annoyed look in her eyes.

“My father does not like to be kept waiting.” She spoke sharply, a power behind it that befitted her now apparent station. “Not even by the likes of someone so important as the Luminary himself. Come with me. You can’t possibly get lost this way.”

Elian had only the barest moment to acknowledge that he was being mocked before she was dragging him along by the arm at a fast clip, guards and other staff members bowing and scraping to get out of her way. The briskness did not let up even as they entered the throne room, and being escorted by the princess was only marginially more awkward than walking in alone would have been, what with the queues of soldiers leading up to the king.

Some knight with hair as long as the princess’s stopped him at the base of the throne and the princess continued on to stand by her father’s side, distrust evident in her gaze as she glared down at him.

‘Well, this is going wonderfully _,’_ Elian thought.

He barely kept from rolling his eyes through the king’s welcome, the proof of his birthright as the Luminary, and the effusive praises. Fake, it all felt so fake it made him sick, and Her angry disposition, strong enough that could be felt even through the silence in their connection, confirmed it for him.

‘Why am I even here?’ Elian questioned Her, but all he got in reply was:

_‘Wait. Wait a bit more.’_

He almost missed when the king switched tracks, rather abruptly.

“Tell me, O Luminary--” Ugh, the title was already getting old. “Where exactly is it that you hail from? I would so very much like to pay tribute to those who took you in and raised you.”

‘I bet you would, old man,’ Elian thought venomously, a flare of caution springing up in the back of his mind. He didn’t even need the warning.

Elian opened his mouth and lied, keeping some small pearls of truth to sell it.

“My parents…” A pause and downcast eyes. Those who grieved had trouble with these things, he knew. “Were wanderers who pulled me from the water along their campsite. We travelled with different caravans with the seasons and stopped wherever we pleased.”

The king didn’t look satisfied, suspicion furrowing his brow. Elian was quite sure he’d be subjected to less than polite questioning for his story and quickly scrambled for more innocuous details to throw to him. However, before it could get to that, the princess bent and whispered something to the king. Something like understanding and belief dawned on his face. With that, an air of condecension filled his words.

“Well then, perhaps as a word of advice: not all are as… open handed as _wanderers_ are. Do mind yourself not to go digging through other people’s things. Some may take offense.”

Elian flushed red more from anger than shame, but he kept his mouth shut. Barely. He made a mental note to deliberately break more hopefully priceless artifacts on his way out.

In fact, he was so entirely distracted by his rage and the insistent _‘Not yet,’_ that he tuned out most of the king’s aside to the long haired knight, Jester or some shit like that, distantly registering the clanking of some of the guards leaving with him.

What he _didn’t_ miss was tall, dark, and… eh, stalking up to him menacingly, looking as ready to fight as he felt.

“Accursed Luminary--” Cool, cool, okay so _that’s_ how this was going to go. He’d been itching to draw his blade since he’d stepped foot in the castle.

_‘No.’_

‘No?!’ Elian balked in disbelief, every word pouring from the knight’s self-righteous mouth only serving to piss him off further. Guards surrounded him, pointing their stupid pointy sticks in his face. He could take them. He could wipe the floor with them without even drawing his blade-- Elian glanced up towards the throne, seeing the princess on defensive in front of the king. She might pose a challenge, but…

_‘Elian. No. Not yet._ _Behave._ _’_

The king stood imperiously, directing the dark knight before him with all the confidence of… well, a king. “Hendrik! Take this cur, this harbringer of calamity, and cast him into the furthest corner of the dungeon!”

The hell would _behaving_ do when he was about to get chucked into jail? Only Her insistence pressing down on his mind kept him docile even through the frankly rude and _mostly_ uncalled for accusations handed down from the throne. But if this Hendrik didn’t get his sword out of Elian’s face, there would be _problems._

_‘_ _Just trust me. Wait a bit more. You’ll know when the time comes.’_

Elian’s heart dropped from his chest as Her presence went completely silent, the absence stifling in its absoluteness. That alone was enough to get him to quiet down, for now.


	2. Erik Is Just Not Having A Good Time

This was _bullshit_.

Erik tried and mostly failed to breathe through the pain, leaning heavily against the wall to avoid putting pressure on his fucked up leg. He knew if he sat back down he would _not_ be getting up, and the sadistic jackasses would take his food back if he didn’t stand at the door for it. Some internal clock that hadn’t yet been completely screwed up by the unchanging dimness of the dungeon let him know it would be time for them to stop by soon. Maybe that was just the hunger talking.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misjudged their rounds. Erik grimaced, his split bloody and dirty fingertips digging into the wall, aching from a now pointless effort that only added to his list of troubles. He should’ve been more careful, but all the care in the world couldn’t make up for his shitty luck. Months had gone by and he had never been one to sit and do nothing. Especially when the longer he waited, the weaker he got, even in the weeks _b_ _efore_ the guards started taking out their boredom on him.

Starting with only mindless doodles on the floor, Erik had noted how relatively loose the dirt was. That, paired with the knowledge that the castle sat high above the city and that this was supposedly the ‘deepest dungeon’ had sparked a small hope. A pipe dream that he could somehow dig his way out. It wasn’t like anyone else was coming for him. He’d given up on _that_ when he could feel his hair brushing the base of his neck, the only real indicator of time in this hell hole.

But of course he’d gotten caught. He hadn’t managed to hear the footsteps of the regular guardsmen once the hole had been deep enough to crawl into. He’d sure heard the swearing and the sound of his cell’s door being ripped open moments before he’d been bodily dragged into the open by his hood.

Erik shuddered. That had been days ago, and he still couldn’t put any real weight on his leg. It wasn’t broken, he prayed it wasn’t broken. It was just… unhappy. Yeah. Very unhappy about getting stomped on by the steel boot of someone easily three times his size. His ribs were, too.

Biting down on his lip against a hysteric giggle that tried to escape, Erik leaned his head back against the rocky wall. Okay, yeah, this was bad.

They’d come and fill the hole soon, or more likely make _him_ do it, nevermind that going into it at this point would be a one way trip for him. Maybe then they’d just pour dirt in on top of him until he was buried alive.

Erik’s spiralling thoughts were interrupted by the not unfamiliar sound of clanking boots. Many of them. Fear spiked through his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought desperately not to get sick or pass out or both.

_No. No no no,_ _**please** _ _no._

The only thing that broke through his panic was the sound of a cell door opening. The _other_ cell’s door. He froze, silent, hood up and doing his best to go unnoticed, hoping to fade into the shadows. Hearing the sound of the dark knight of Heliodor’s voice, Erik tensed impossibly further. The bastard was the one who’d put him here in the first place, but at least he hadn’t ever come by for a _visit_. Erik tried not to jinx himself by banishing the thought quickly. There was a first time for everything.

Erik didn’t dare breathe until the sounds of footsteps faded back towards the castle, and he peeked out from under his hood, checking the surroundings. None had stayed behind. Thank the Goddess.

His new cellmate didn’t seem to share his relief.

“Fucking _jackass_.” The sound of smashing pottery startled Erik. Why the hell were there pots in a dungeon’s cell? “And the point of this was..?”

In the dim light, Erik could make out the newbie spreading his arms, indicating the surrounding cell and talking to… nobody. Fastest prison breakdown _he’d_ ever seen, that was for sure.

As if in retribution for Erik’s thoughts, the young man chucked the remaining pot at the cell door with such force that several of the shards made it clear across the hall separating them. Erik was man enough to admit that he yelped at the sudden, if ultimately harmless assault. Or rather, _would_ have been harmless if he hadn’t lost his balance against the wall and collapsed gracelessly into a painful heap.

_“Shit,”_ Erik swore, blinking hard against the reassurance from each and every one of his injuries that they were still with him.

“...Who’s there?” The question was a lot calmer than Erik would have expected, far more curious than frightened or angry.

Erik considered not responding. He _seriously_ considered ignoring his cellmate until his not too distant dying day. But despite his claims, he’d never been good at the whole solitude thing. Besides, even if he turned out to be worse than the guards, at least he was stuck behind two separate barred doors.

The voice came again. “Hey, you still with me?”

“Don’t have anywhere else to go, now do I?” Erik snarked, gingerly pushing himself back to at least sitting. Faint laughter echoed across the room, making it feel that much less empty.

“No, I suppose not.” The man stood at his cell’s door, looking across with a strange look in his eyes that morphed into something that almost looked like concern.

A singular distant clanking caught Erik’s attention and he groaned. It would be the second he sat down, wouldn’t it? Before he could properly stand, the man across the way quietly called to him to catch his attention. Glancing over, Erik saw him pick through the pottery shards, selecting a rather sharp looking one with a dangerous glint in his eyes. He then gestured towards the shards that had landed in Erik’s own cage before deliberately looking towards the approaching footsteps and back.

That was insane. Erik was quite certain he understood what was being conveyed, and was dumbstruck at the suggestion. The only thing that kept him from dismissing it outright was the absolute certainty coated in a thin veneer of rage in the purple eyes staring him down.

“Trust me,” he whispered, slipping his own makeshift shiv up his sleeve.

Inexplicably, Erik did.

Quickly, far more quickly than he would have believed he could moments ago, Erik grabbed a fairly sized, jagged piece and pulled himself to his feet. He panted lightly from the exertion, black stars spotting his vision as pain lanced up his leg and through his spine, but he was in place. Information he hadn’t previously considered terribly useful flitted through his mind: where the armor was more ornamental than functional, the muffling quality of the helmets, and the guards’ preference that he stand within arm’s reach.

It could work. It had to work. Oh Goddess, please let it work, or at least end him quickly.

As expected, it was Erik’s cell that the guard approached; there was no need to feed someone expected to die in three days’ time.

“An’ for the _gentleman_ in the dungeon suite. One fine plate o’ gruel.” Erik could _feel_ the guard leering as he stood up from where he’d deposited the plate. The guard grabbed his jaw and stepped just a bit closer.“Might find a bit of proper fruit lyin’ about if yous decides to play nice…”

Erik stabbed him. Pouring every ounce of hatred and anger and _disgust_ into the blow, he shoved the shard up through his gut, where the cloth armor failed to shield him, up and up under the guard’s ribs until he lost grip on the bloody thing. The guard collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, a wet gasping preventing him from doing much more.

Falling to his knees, Erik barely had the presence of mind to fumble for the keys, well aware of exactly where each guard kept them. Gripping them tightly in bloody fingers, Erik dragged himself up by the door, his body screaming in protest as he twisted his arm through the slats to unlock it. As soon as the latch shifted far enough, the door swung free, catching only briefly on the guardsman with Erik’s added weight and dragging him a couple of feet or so, making him groan pitifully.

Shit, he was still alive.

But that problem didn’t currently rank high enough on his ever growing list to be spared more than a second’s thought.

A cold sweat broke across Erik’s forehead as his body refused to put up with any more abuse. Dizziness swarmed him from all of the sudden movements, and he distantly thought he might be going into shock.

“Can you make it over here?” It wasn’t quite desperation in the other man’s tone, but it bordered somewhere alongside it. Right. He needed out, too. He needed out _more_ because he could actually get somewhere. Erik just hoped to die outside of his cage.

The man sighed in frustration, muttering some nonsense under his breath, the words laced with anxiety. “I know, but I can’t _do_ that from here-”

Reaffirming his grip on the keys, Erik tried to gather himself together. He didn’t trust himself to throw them, because if he _missed_ , they’d be in even deeper trouble. It was just a couple of steps. A couple of steps and he could die doing something halfway decent. By letting some unknown convict out of jail. Whatever. Details.

It’d piss off the guards, the knights, the damned king himself. Yeah, that could work. Fueled by spite and spite alone, Erik managed to push away from the door, never quite standing, but controlling the stumbling, painful fall in the correct direction.He braced himself to hit the hard metal of the cell head on, accepting that he was close enough, it was fine.

Surprisingly strong arms managed to stop him, just barely, and pulled him in closer. Erik couldn’t contain the cry of pain as his leg dragged across the ground, his ribs screaming at the treatment. Surely, he could reach the keys by now, just _stop-_

_“_ _Shh,”_ the man hushed him, green light spilling from where his hands had maneuvered him into an upright sitting position. Erik gasped, his head dropping between a gap in the bars as his body stopped supporting his limbs. He recognized the touch of magic instictually, but his mind was a step behind to identify it, more ready to believe that he was mercifully being killed.

When the sensation of warmth where he rested his head didn’t fade or fall away, he was forced to reconsider.

But _why_? The keys were in reach, Erik couldn’t have fought him off if he’d _wanted_ and he would only be a hindrance rather than a help in any further escape--Healing magic was so _rare_ , why would a stranger waste it when he already had what he wanted?

An easy chuckle reverberated in both the air and the body he was mostly leaning against. Apparently, he’d been wondering _aloud_. _Fantastic._

“I’m Elian,” The young man had the presence of mind to keep his voice down, even in his amusement. “If you’d tell me your name, we wouldn’t be strangers anymore.”

The bright green of his magic began to dim, taking the worst of the pain with it. Elian hadn’t answered even half of his questions, but Erik couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“’m Erik,” he managed to murmur. In the place of the sharp pain, dull exhaustion hit him like a runaway horse.

“Okay, okay. Stay with me.” Elian stroked his back, the whispers of the healing spell fading. He still hurt, but the difference already had Erik sagging in relief. “You’re going to need to move out of the way of the door, okay?”

Erik nodded dazedly, pushing himself back, giving just enough space for Elian to unlock the door and come through. He heard footsteps.

“El-” Erik managed, trying to warn him. Elian had already noticed.

Entire expression darkening, Elian stalked towards the fallen guard, pulling the sword from its sheath and turning to meet the oncoming guard. Caught by surprise, the guardsman managed no more than a yelp before Elian’s sword caught him across his undefended stomach, tearing easily through cloth and skin and everything beneath. Once Elian had him prone, he stabbed downwards through the exposed throat, ensuring eternal silence.

Still trembling with unsated rage, Elian turned back to Erik’s previous target, who was still twitching, barely gasping for life. Elian took aim and sharply kicked the slightly protruding shard up even further. The guard fell still.

Shaking his head briefly, as if to cast away a thought, Elian took a steadying breath before reaching down and unbuckling the sheath from the corpse and fitting it to himself, sliding the blade home before continuing to search.

“There’ll be a knife in his boot.” Erik wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to speak up _now_ , considering Elian didn’t seem quite finished with his rampage. However, his comment earned him no ire, only a brief nod before he extracted a dagger, as expected, along with the securing straps from the worn boots. A very familiar looking dagger. That _bastard_.

Elian caught his dark look before he even thought to hide it. “Something wrong?”

While that was a very loaded question, Erik managed to shake off his fatigue and answer with what mattered at the moment, an angry flush painting his cheekbones. “That was mine.”

Nodding in understanding, Elian handed it over, as if it would matter if Erik were armed or not. Still, he accepted it gratefully, its familiar weight adding another layer of security to his admittedly fragile state of being.

Pausing for an odd moment, Elian seemed to be briefly suspended in time, listening for something. Erik didn’t dare interrupt, a fair bit more certain that there was more than met the eye going on than he had been moments before.

“Right. Time to go,” Elian said with some finality, reaching over and practically lifting Erik to his feet, arms lingering to support him across his shoulders and back. It was a decidedly good thing, because even with the magical healing, his leg managed to complain and cramp up quite violently, a harsh hiss the only verbal indicator Erik let escape. Erik’s grip tightened where he’d latched onto Elian’s arm for balance. To be left behind at this point… he grit his teeth against the despair that bubbled up at the thought.

It’d be fine. He’d be fine, it wasn’t like he deserved to be saved. It was a nice thought, but...

“Shit. Okay,” Elian scooped him up, frazzling Erik’s brain _before_ he turned and marched right into Erik’s cell and set him down just beyond the mat that hid Erik’s sorry excuse for an escape tunnel.

“ _Wait-”_ Admittedly, Erik found himself panicking a bit, fists curled into Elian’s coat. If he was going to be left to die, it couldn’t be in here. Please, _anywhere_ but in here--

But Elian was turning away, pulling out of his rather pathetic grip. “I’m sorry, sweet, but we need to hurry.”

Erik couldn’t _breathe_ , couldn’t quite comprehend when he saw Elian lift up the mat with all confidence. “But that’s--”

“Not finished, it’s fine.” Elian hopped down and a sharp flash of purple light flashed from deeper in, followed by a resounding _boom_ and the crack of falling rocks. _That_ if nothing else, would be sure to bring the guards.

Erik peered over the edge, seeing where Elian stood before a giant hole in the wall. Footsteps echoed behind him, and Erik froze, unable to tell if it was real or just his mind playing tricks with the remaining pounding in his skull.

Elian, however, seemed to think it was real and swore, reaching up towards the entrance, beckoning towards him frantically.

“ _Jump?”_ Erik hissed, staring down at him in bewilderment. He wouldn’t be getting very far afterwards, that’d be certain.

“It’s not so far, I’ll catch you. Just _hurry._ And pull the mat down after you. It’ll buy us time.”

Not for the first time that day, Erik pushed aside higher thinking skills and obeyed, the feeling of freefall not doing anything for his nerves as the mat fell back into place, obscuring them entirely in darkness.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but you know those soulmate au's where the first thing your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your body? I just thought it would be hilarious if that were the case in this verse. 
> 
> Next time we get some more of Elian's POV and what he thinks of his new blue haired companion. He thinks a lot of things. 
> 
> I need to go to sleep


	3. Elian, I swear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to Avery for saving my ass from lazy writing and making me do this right. And shout out to all who left kudos and comments, I really appreciate the support!

Moments Before:

These guardsmen were a joke. Elian counted seven different points at which he could have slipped past their spears when they escorted him down through the castle, two of which would have proven deadly for at least one of them. They seemed to have the decency, or maybe the self preservation, to refrain from trying to drag him along as the princess had.

No, it was probably arrogance.

When the cell door slammed shut, Elian didn’t even wait until Hendrik had finished speaking to not so subtly flip him off. The knight acted as if he couldn’t even see it. Uppity prick.

They marched away in their useless and pointlessly noisy armor, completely unaware of how close they had come to death. The knight, so secure in his blind self righteousness, had only bothered to take his sword, ignoring the possibility of magic entirely.

They thought he was some mythical Luminary for fuck’s sake! That they saw him as that weak and defenseless pissed him off, even if that was the point of playing nice.

“Fucking _jackass_.” Elian took out his anger on the nearest breakable, smashing his foot through a pot tucked against the wall of his cell. Clearly, this had been some sort of storage before. He barely felt a brush of Her presence, the distance not setting well with him.

“And the point of this was…?” He called aloud, gesturing angrily. When all he received was silence, he picked up the remaining intact pot and hurled it against the cell door uselessly, red clouding his vision. Why was She _being_ like this?

Hearing a rather unimpressive _thud_ and swearing come from across the narrow hallway, Elian turned. Faint amusement and curiosity won out against anger for the moment. After all, She had said it would be obvious what he needed to do.

“Who’s there?” He called out. Nothing.

Elian frowned, opening his mouth to yell before a weird sense of calm washed over him, Her presence ever so faintly blanketing his mind. It was enough of a relief that he thought clearly for a moment and realized it was entirely possible that what he’d heard could mean something was wrong.

He tried again. “Hey, you still with me?”

_Why do I care?_

The thought was lost as he finally got an answer, the voice younger than he expected.

“Don’t have anywhere else to go, now do I?”

Elian laughed, intrigued. He moved closer to the door, trying to make out the figure of his new cellmate in the dim light. He was… tiny. Maybe not quite child sized, but much smaller than Elian expected some hardened criminal to be. He moved like he was in pain.

“No, I suppose not,” Elian muttered mindlessly, a strange feeling blooming in his chest.

Before he could think anymore on it, the ridiculously loud noise of a guard approaching echoed down the corridor and an idea struck him. He could use this, and potentially reduce the magic drain he’d go through getting out of here. After all, if they were stupid enough to hand him weapons…

“Psst!” Elian hissed over, grabbing the other’s attention and doing his best to demonstrate his plan so that even an idiot could catch on. Or at least an idiot with a criminal past. He’d seen these guards, they were negligent at best. Everyone in this damned castle deserved what was coming for them...

Even though Elian got the sense that his neighbor understood him, he didn’t look quite convinced. He looked… scared. Visible despite being partially shadowed by his hood, his face was drawn with scarcely concealed pain, hopelessness and desperation battling in his blue eyes. He’d pretty clearly been here for a while. It would only take a push to get him to try something stupid, Elian knew.

“Trust me,” Elian whispered, repeating the words She had said to him.

It worked, somehow, the man moving into action.

Oh, it looked so much _worse_ when he was standing, unable to support his own weight, hunched inwards defensively. Elian saw the dark purple, almost black, bruise that seemed to span most of his mid torso through the strings of his loose-fitting tunic. Though it was hidden by the roughspun clothing, it was clear that he was favoring one leg, leaving him balancing precariously against the cell door. Even standing up exhausted him, the man out of breath from the simple motion.

A cold feeling spread through his stomach when Elian realized he must have fallen earlier.

Elian grit his teeth, readjusting his grip on his own pottery shard.

So what? What did he care if some pretty little prisoner was hurt?

Finally making an appearance, the guard marched right up to the neighboring cell, sliding a small tray of what couldn’t possibly pass as food into the slot underneath the door.

“An’ for the _gentleman_ in the dungeon suite. One fine plate o’ gruel.”

 _Hurry up_ , Elian thought as the guard straightened. They’d miss their chance for sure if- oh. _Oh._

“Might find a bit of proper fruit lyin’ about if yous decides to play nice…”

Anger, sudden and surprising, choked Elian. He trembled with it, letting it fuel him. She _had_ said he’d know when it was time to act…

The squelching sound of flesh giving way to sharp clay was far more satisfying than Elian had anticipated. While he personally would’ve gone for the throat, the blow had done the trick. He hadn’t been entirely sure his cellmate would have it in him.

Elian’s first doubts about his plan trickled in when the man hit the ground harder than the guardsman had, even as he managed to drag himself through the necessary steps. Something was unshakably _wrong_ with the other prisoner, and the anxiety it brought Elian was foreign in its very existence, let alone its magnitude.

He could just bust out of the cell on his own. Sure it would be loud and waste a ton of magic, but it was doable. He didn’t _need_ the other man’s help. He didn’t _need_ him to be alright.

So why?

Why did it suddenly _matter_?

Yggdrasil remained silent. Though Her presence weighed on his mind, it offered no answers.

The now free (in only the most technical sense) man had gone horribly pale, his pupils blown so wide they almost hid the blue that surrounded them. He wasn’t moving.

“Can you make it over here?” It was a stupid question, but Elian couldn’t help it.

Of course he couldn’t make it. Elian had severely misjudged the state he was in.

He’d fucked up. This was so bad-

But no, it was fine, it was no skin off his back-

_It wasn’t fine!_

Elian’s head _ached._ He couldn’t _think_.

 _‘He needs healing!’_ Her voice resonated in his head with almost painful clarity.

Oh sure, _now S_ he was talking.

Sighing angrily, Elian groused back, “I know, but I can’t _do_ that from here-”

She of all people should know that.

_‘Elian, look!’_

His eyes snapped open. Holy _shit_ , he was moving.

Completely shocked, Elian didn’t think, just moved, dropping the shard he’d previously held and intercepting the man before he could brain himself on the bars of the cell.

_He’s so light…_

Elian mindlessly gathered the man closer, wincing at the simultaneous pained cry and Her scolding insistence that he be more careful. But it was okay now.

Elian hushed him, far more gently than he knew he could be, feeling the Heal spell flow from his hands, giving off a faint green light where they made contact. The man’s hood slipped from his head as he slumped against him, revealing long, disorderly blue spikes of hair.

His mind was quiet.

The man in his arms began to mumble, and considering his state, his mutterings were quite reasonable. Why _would_ a stranger, why would _he_ do something like this? But they left a sour taste in the back of Elian’s mouth. It was more than a little unsettling.

Elian could only laugh to himself. A stranger. He didn’t even know who this _was_.

But he wanted to.

“I’m Elian.” A tinge of wonder seeped into his tone. “If you’d tell me your name, we wouldn’t be strangers anymore.”

“’m Erik.” The response was so quiet it was almost inaudible. He was fading fast, and Elian felt a surge of urgency.

“Okay, okay. Stay with me.” Elian could feel the dips of Erik’s ribs through the back of his thin shirt, a foreign concern washing over him. The flow of healing magic was trickling to a stop, and Elian could already tell it wasn’t enough. Shit.

A sharp tug on his mind, and Elian knew that they needed to move.

Retrieving the keys, Elian pulled away, before he noticed a slight problem. “You’re going to need to move out of the way of the door, okay?”

Erik obeyed rather easily, and Elian was out in moments.

Distant clanking interrupted the placid mindset he’d somehow fallen into. Erik was trying to warn him, but he barely heard him.

Rage so strong he couldn’t be sure it was entirely his flooded his entire being. Divesting the fallen guard (who was still gasping around a mouthful of blood, Elian gleefully noted) of his sword, Elian stood ready, facing his opponent.

It was pathetic, really, Elian noted as the spray of blood from his single strike narrowly missed his own coat. The fight was over before it had even begun, and even the feeling of flesh and bone giving beneath his sword as he finished the man off failed to be remotely satisfying. Maybe he should have played with him more…

He turned to the other guard, disappointed that he couldn’t put up much of a fight either. Still, kicking the pottery the rest of the way up into the man’s chest helped take some of the edge off.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t _nearly_ enough.

But it had to be, for now. Taking a steadying breath, Elian centered himself. The distraction of looting the body for anything useful was a familiar way to come down from after battle bloodlust, and Elian made full use of it.

“There’ll be a knife in his boot.”

Elian was a bit surprised that Erik was speaking up at all, well aware that most people he’d encountered would be more than a little frightened, if not outright disgusted by his earlier display. Maybe there was something to his having a criminal past after all.

Sure enough, strapped to the corpse’s boot was an odd looking dagger. Well, perhaps it wasn’t all that strange in itself, but it sure didn’t look like something that would be standard regulation. With the excessive emphasis on appearances that polluted Heliodor, it stood out. Elian turned it over in his hands, wondering if it was supposed to have sentimental significance.

A chill ran up the back of his neck and he turned, catching a glare on Erik’s face. The hell was his problem? “Something wrong?”

“That was mine.”

Oh, he was looking at the dagger. Elian had been almost certain they were going to have a problem. Well, he had no use for it, so he handed it over to its proper owner. The blush that had spread across Erik’s face was a definite improvement to the wan appearance he’d been sporting earlier. Elian wouldn’t be opposed to seeing it again.

The thought struck him as odd. What the actual hell?

But when Elian tried to focus on what was strange or even why he thought it was strange, the thought slipped from his mental grasp. Even the thought of chasing a thought fell out of reach, leaving him with nothing but mounting frustration and a lack of understanding _why_.

‘ _Elian_.’ Her voice gathered up his attention before feeding a stream of images into his mind: a familiar cell, a hidden tunnel, an explosion, caverns and darkness and freedom. _‘Hurry.’_

Blinking back into the present, Elian couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. “Right. Time to go.”

He didn’t even register deciding to pick Erik up off the ground, only changing it to lifting him to his feet at the last moment. Elian wasn’t about to _carry_ him, he was just… moving things along faster.

Something like amusement and frustration flickered across the bond with Yggdrasil before fading away.

A pained hiss reminded Elian that a single Heal spell certainly wasn’t enough to fix the damage he’d seen and sensed had been inflicted upon Erik’s body. Even if he could move on his own, it’d be slow going.

_What a pain._

The thought and frustration slipped out of his head like smoke, leaving him with a sense of deja vu. But Elian didn’t have time to focus on that, he needed to get them out.

...when did it become _them?_

_‘Elian.’_

Right, time crunch. “Shit. Okay.” Elian easily lifted Erik, transporting him into his old cell. He still had a tunnel to deal with first and foremost.

Setting him down, Elian was so focused on getting to the next part of his task that he didn’t notice something was wrong until he felt a tug against his travelling coat.

“ _Wait-”_ Erik sounded close to tears, and Elian felt a tug in his gut even as he moved to pull away. They didn’t have _time_ for this.

“I’m sorry, sweet,” Elian found himself saying, “But we need to hurry.”

_The actual_ _**fuck?** _

No time. Elian could feel power sparking from his core to his fingertips, as sure a sign as any that She needed him to do something, to the point of boosting his abilities to ensure it was done.

Lifting the mat and leaning it against the wall, Elian heard another protest behind him.

“But that’s--”

“Not finished, it’s fine,” Elian snapped, hopping in. It was a little deeper than he’d expected, with small indents in the wall that could have been footholds for a smaller person. He crouched, placing his hands against the wall of the tunnel where She indicated, took a deep breath, and directed the destructive surge of power to a singular point and _out_.

The mark on his hand shone a bright purple, matching the blinding flash of his Zammle spell, painting it temporarily on his vision. The space in front of him was suddenly cleared of earth, and he heard the distant crash of something falling into an open space. Perfect.

Hearing footsteps in the distance, Elian glanced up to the opening of the hole. Erik’s eyes met his own and as easy as it would be to just continue on without him, the idea just wouldn’t settle comfortably in his head.

Fine. Screw it, he was taking him with him. Elian knew he was skilled enough that he could get them both out of there without breaking a sweat. Just try and stop him.

When the footsteps drew closer, Elian swore, realizing how fragile Erik was, how easy it would be to lose him in a fight. He wasn’t about to fail that quickly. Elian reached up towards the nervous man, indicating that he join him, and quickly.

The incredulous response barely reached him, even at their proximity. _“Jump?”_

Well yeah, that was the idea.

“It’s not so far, I’ll catch you. Just _hurry._ ” An idea struck him. “And pull the mat down after you. It’ll buy us time.”

It was more than a little gratifying when Erik immediately obeyed.

* * *

There wasn’t much space to spare near the entrance to the escape tunnel, so Elian easily caught his new companion even in the sudden darkness, one arm wrapped securely around his hips, the other across his upper back. The initial idea was just to avoid jarring the man’s already fragile leg, but Erik’s limbs latched around Elian, making no attempt to stand on his own. Adjusting his hold to properly support him, Elian couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

Hell, if the guards weren’t about to be annoying shits about him punching a hole in their prison, Elian might have quite easily carried Erik like this for the rest of their escape. He wasn’t heavy at all, and it would probably be faster than the alternative.

...And there was something about the way he fit in his arms, in the surprising warmth radiating through his thin clothing even in the chill of the dungeon.

Elian took a silent moment to collect himself, listening to and counting the guards scrambling about above their hiding place. Idiots. Of course, if they _had_ been intelligent enough to find them, they’d have only gotten a well-placed Zam to the face for their troubles.

Tempting as it was to draw their attention, Elian didn’t know how much further they’d have to go. He needed to try to conserve his magic, if only for the one currently curled around him.

Erik was _shaking_.

Elian eyed the tunnel out. It wouldn’t be difficult to move in, but it certainly wasn’t wide enough to comfortably carry someone through. He’d have to think of something else.

Tucking his hand underneath the length of Erik’s tunic (to hide the glow of course, and for absolutely no other reason), Elian quietly cast another Heal, hoping it would be enough for him to move on his own, at least until he could be sure that he could afford to cast it again. Elian found it much more difficult to stitch a person back together, as opposed to tearing things apart, and the magic cost reflected that only recently unfortunate fact.

The magic had barely left his fingertips when Erik gasped, moving to hide his face against his shoulder, trembling in his grasp. Elian could feel a sharp heat radiating against his neck, a tell-tale sign of a blush even in the near complete darkness. His grip instinctively tightened in response, feeling the not unpleasant sensation of bursts of warm air across his collarbone as Erik panted quietly against him.

Well that was… interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to recap everything in both POVs from here on out, but it turns out that beginnings are Important.
> 
> To Be Continued :3


	4. No One Will Notice Blood In The Sewers

Elian experimentally slid his hand a little higher, seeking out the warm skin of the man in his arms.

“Nn-” Erik’s hips jerked forward as Elian pressed the magic from his fingertips directly into the small of his back.

“Shh, quiet,” Elian murmured into his ear.

Cheek to cheek now, he could properly appreciate the intensity of Erik’s blush and couldn’t resist tilting his head to tuck a single small kiss into the edge of his jaw, earning a shiver.

It was almost disappointing when Erik _was_ able to stifle any further sounds. Elian could feel Erik struggle to regain control of his breath against his chest, but he remained absolutely silent.

Or at least until Elian pressed forward, his mischievous grin lost to the darkness, rocking into Erik easily with the tunnel wall as a support. The choked off gasp was well worth the annoyed fist to the shoulder.

Now it was Elian’s turn to practice silence, barely biting back a laugh. Cute.

Hands fell against his chest and pushed back, a demand for space that Elian was tempted to ignore.

But the healing spell had long since faded away, and the chill down his spine from Her sudden displeasure served as more than enough deterrent to bring him back to focus.

Right, escaping.

Elian easily lowered Erik to his feet, encouraged when they didn’t collapse underneath him, holding steady. He could have sworn he saw a flash of red in the dark as he turned towards the continuation of the tunnel inset in the wall, pulling Erik’s arm with him until he could be sure he’d found it as well.

It was a simple matter to follow the tunnel, the sounds of the searching guards falling away as they traveled quietly, still not daring to make to much noise.

Eyes having adjusted to the lack of light, Elian easily recognized where the tunnel dropped off into open space. Shifting his weight, he let himself fall feet first to the stone floor of what appeared to be a sewer system, if the smell was anything to go by. He crinkled his nose, frowning into the darkness.

The soft sound of something hitting the ground behind him had Elian turning, fully prepared to have to help Erik back to his feet. Instead, concealing his bright hair once again under his hood, Erik stood crouched, attention fixed on Elian for their next step. An improvement already.

Turning right, Elian was immediately confronted with solid iron bars stretching from floor to ceiling. Inset in the bars was a similarly sturdy door emblazoned with a gaudy faux-gold crest of Heliodor. Even this was locked off? Reaching out, he jerked on the door, hoping to note a weakness of some sort. No such luck.

As it was, his magic reserves were almost drained, the cause lurking silently nearby, wary eyes darting between the gate and further into the sewers. Elian knew he could manage a handful more combat spells, but something strong enough to blast the gate away would have to wait, particularly with Yggdrasil making no indication of lending a helping hand at the moment.

Whatever, if it were _that_ easy to get out, it’d be boring.

Torchlight bloomed around corners, making it difficult to spot any additional light approaching guards might have on hand. With the way shadows would fall, it’d be very difficult to sneak around anyone half-way competent. Moving forwards along the wall, Elian surmised that if they couldn’t get past the gate at the moment, their only other option would be to try and sneak around to another miraculous exit elsewhere.

Ignoring the bridge to the right, the two approached a sharp left turn. A few conveniently stacked crates gave enough cover to hide behind and observe a patrol of guards approaching their direction. They’d have to double back and hide to avoid them.

“Hey, fuckers!” Elian, however, had other plans. “Come get some!” He waved his sword at the group of guards, counting four in their numbers. Piece of cake.

“ _What are you doing?!”_ Erik hissed, scrambling to put Elian between himself and the approaching guards as he drew his dagger.

“Having a bit of fun.” Elian grinned, advancing. “ _Relax_.”

The guardsmen fell into what could almost be considered a formation, though Elian could read the uncertainty in their body languages, undermining their stances. Their loss.

One particularly brave (read: stupid) guard tried to charge Elian, heroically getting himself grabbed by the armor and yanked forward, run through for his trouble. His sword clattered against the ground, the shield he hadn’t even thought to use following soon after as it slid down his limp arm. Bright crimson blood bloomed around steel from both sides of the gaping wound in his abdomen while Elian _twisted_ the blade, a gurgle serving as his priceless last words.

Bracing his stance, Elian fixed his grip with his non sword hand, using the dying body as a shield for just long enough to shove it forward into another shell-shocked guard, freeing his blade for the next assault. The remaining guards cowered back, the one who’d caught the body struggling to lower it gently to the ground.

If only it were worth the death it earned him.

Despite the bright red scarf in the way, the guard’s kneeling position made it all too easy to use the helmet as a guiding point to sheath Elian’s short sword in behind his collarbone and down into his lungs unimpeded, an easy flick pulling it free once again. The guard crumpled over the other body before he knew he was dead.

Elian quickly turned to block the first actual blow the guards were able to get off, arm singing with the strain of the rushed defense. The bright blast of a purple Zam gave Elian just enough room to breathe, knocking his opponent back a few paces. The spell hadn’t landed anywhere critical, remnants of decay slipping over the sparse armor.

Oh, well.

One parry, two- and Elian was able to side step and pivot so he stood just beside the guard. A sharp jab where even the folds of the decorative tunic didn’t cover caused the guard to stumble. After that it was quick work to shove his sword up and through the bottom of the guard’s rib cage, blood and viscera pouring from the twin punctures as the man began to drown.

He wouldn’t be getting up from that, Elian decided.

With the speed at which he’d dispatched the guards, finding a sudden lack of opponents forced Elian to take a quick tally of the bodies before he realized he was missing one. One of the guards had slipped by him, going after the apparent easier target. Said guard had Erik nearly backed against the wall, crates to one side, a steep fall into shallow sewer water to the other.

Okay, that wasn’t ideal, but Erik seemed to be managing so far.

The guard’s arms were tagged red from multiple glancing blows, slowing his swings down and impeding his ability with his greatsword. Elian might have just let Erik handle it if it weren’t for the way his energy was clearly flagging. More than that, he was starting to stumble, a dazed look in his eyes spelling trouble. There were only so many times he’d dodge successfully.

The guard bellowed angrily, lifting his greatsword, preparing for an overhanded swing, and Erik _flinched_ , moving to bring his dagger up uselessly in defense. In a fair battle, the guardsman would have ended it there.

But the fool had his back to Elian.

Bashing the pommel of his sword hard enough against the helmet to knock it loose and the guard off balance, Elian brought up his left hand to support his next swing and hacked most of the way through the guard’s exposed neck. The steel was ripped from his hands as the guard collapsed in a shower of blood. Swearing, Elian yanked his blade free from where it had partially stuck in the spine, cursing himself for the sloppy downward strike.

If there had been anyone else left, that could have been dangerous.

Elian flicked the blood from his sword, looking up just in time to see Erik crumple the rest of the way to the ground.

_Well, shit._

* * *

Erik blinked awake, quickly sitting up and looking around.

A torch flickered in the corner of a rather militant room, casting orange light across the sparse furnishings. Its flame did nothing against the damp chill that filled the room, leaving Erik shivering, his blood spattered tunic sticking against him uncomfortably.

But where was-

Erik glanced down.

“ _Holy_ shit-” Erik took a few frantic breaths, holding a hand to his chest, fingers catching the smooth blue beads of his necklace. “How long’ve- no, nevermind.”

Elian grinned up at him, seemingly content to continue leaning against the side of the small cot, mischievous purple eyes reflecting the firelight. “Morning.”

Erik groaned, rubbing at his face and back through his hair, a halfhearted attempt at self-soothing. “It better not be. Where’re we?”

“Some room off the sewers,” Elian explained. “You haven’t been out all that long.”

Erik sighed. Not safe yet. Not that getting outside would be that much better. He tried not to think that far ahead right then. “Just some random room?”

“All the others were locked, you were passed out, and I needed somewhere to recharge.” Elian crossed his arms before gesturing at Erik’s now mended body. “Magic doesn’t come free, you know.”

Tensing, Erik tried desperately not to let his mind fixate on the possible implications of _that_.

Elian had stopped. He’d backed off. It’d be _fine._

...and he’d certainly had worse, if it came down to it.

Maybe if he didn’t demand it as payment...

Erik shook his head slightly, banishing the creeping heat from his cheeks. So much for not thinking about it.

Something else clicked in his mind.“Won’t they check the _only_ room they left open?”

“It’s locked _now_.” Elian waved his hand to the door, dismissing the concern. “Besides, something tells me it was supposed to be in the first place. They’d never know.”

“You-” Erik stared at him in disbelief. “You locked us in a room with _one_ way out based on that?”

Shrugging, Elian didn’t look too concerned. “The guards could only come through one or two at a time. We’d be fine.”

“ **Or** they barricade us in here and we starve to death.” Despite his lighter tone, he wasn’t joking. Healing didn’t fill your stomach, a fact Erik was well aware of at the present moment.

“Nah.” Elian fished around in a pack by his side, extracting a small pouch and tossing it up to Erik. “Speaking of...”

Easily snatching it out of the air, Erik untied it to find a few dozen red berries. _Fuck,_ yes. His stomach cramped in anticipation from the faint smell alone.

“Careful, they’re spicy.” Elian warned, face twisting in distaste.

Erik smirked as he popped two in his mouth. There was a story there, for sure. “I know what buzzberries are.” His tone took on a teasing lilt.

“ _Someone’s_ in a better mood,” Elian pointed out, looking pleased with himself.

“Food,” Erik managed to explain in one word as he continued eating.

Elian hummed in agreement and stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Once you’re done, we’ll head out. It’s been quiet, and I can definitely get that gate open now.”

Nodding, Erik made some effort to slow his pace, the spiciness less of a threat to making him ill than the previous emptiness of his stomach. The pleasant burn from the berries tingled inside his mouth and across his lips. He almost entertained the childish thought of pretending that they’d let him breathe fire before discarding it. Now really wasn’t the time for such things. He knew they wouldn’t, no reason to add appearing insane to the cards stacked against him.

No reason to convince this Elian that it would in fact be better to ditch him.

Looking over at his apparent savior, Erik studied him properly for the first time, finally unburdened by pain or panic. If he hadn’t known any better, Elian’s was a face that would easily get lost in a crowd: simple and clean, fairly attractive, and were it not for the coloring of his eyes, nondescript. One could almost pass him by without giving him a second thought.

But all that was overshadowed by the way he held himself, the easy confidence that bordered on aggression in even the simplest movements. A powerful aura surrounded him, and even if Erik hadn’t seen him cut down guards like they were nothing, Elian gave off the feeling of a predator. He was someone dangerous, and yet…

It made him beautiful.

Erik blushed, ducking his head momentarily, as if caught, despite Elian appearing to be lost up in his own mind again. Still, now that it was in his head, Erik couldn’t refute it. Nor did he care to look away.

Elian’s long, straight brown hair almost brushed his shoulders in a cut that would look stupid on anyone else (or if it were any shorter). Erik couldn’t decide if it would be soft to the touch or coarser, hanging straight due to its own weight. He’d probably lose a hand if he tried to test that...

As if he could feel the weight of his staring, Elian turned and looked at Erik curiously, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear with his free hand, the other now holding his sword. Erik wasn’t sure, but he thought he read a thread of impatience in Elian’s stance and hurriedly finished the berries, brushing off his hands and folding up the bag.

What was he thinking?

He’d been worse than useless so far, and Elian had no reason to keep him around. And yet here he was, fully healed and now fed. For apparently nothing. And all _he_ was doing was eyeing up the man who’d saved him, as if _that_ would ever go anywhere. Even after earlier… he’d just been playing with him.

None of this sat right with him.

Perhaps…

It was a long shot, but Erik saw no harm in trying. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken advantage of the damned curse, and it wouldn’t be nearly the last. Hopefully.

Erik took a deep breath in through the nose, and sure enough, he caught the scent of _something..._ of treasure. He stood up, looping the string around the small bag in his hand as he made his way over to a shadowed corner of the wall. There was a small crevice, almost indiscernible if he hadn’t been looking for it, and from it he pried an odd coin with a star engraved on it. Not the most impressive, but it was something.

He could feel Elian’s questioning gaze on him and made his way over, depositing the folded pouch and the strange coin into his open hand.

“What’s this?”

Erik shrugged, a touch bashful. “Dunno. Worth something, though.”

Elian looked between the coin and the space in the wall where it had come from, consideringly, before slipping the coin and pouch into his bag. “...Interesting.”

It was better than nothing.

Erik froze as a vicious roar echoed in the distance, his train of thought shattered.

He’d heard rumors, but no one put much stock into blatant scare tactics like _dragons_ trapped deep under Heliodor Castle. But what else could make such a sound? Screams and shouts followed soon after, distant enough to put into perspective the sheer magnitude of the initial roar.

Elian perked up, looking at the door with interest. “ _That_ sounds like fun.”

“What? _No!_ ” Erik hissed, putting himself between Elian and the door, as if the man weren’t more than capable of moving him and currently wielding a sword freshly bathed in blood. “It’d rip us to shreds!”

“Oh, yeah?” Elian looked down at him, more amused than anything. “And an iron door is going to stop it?”

“I-” Ah. Shit. Erik could feel the blood drain from his face as he unsteadily backed out of the way of the doorway. Not his brightest move, all things considered.

Elian brought up an arm preemptively, moving into his space. “Hey, don’t go fainting again.”

Crossing his arms in affront, Erik admittedly did feel a bit dizzy even as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He’d be _fine_ , he’d been through so much worse before and managed well enough on his own.

Was Elian going to hold that against him for the rest of their escape?

Erik set his jaw angrily. He wasn’t helpless, and he sure as hell wasn’t weak. He was healed now, and he could pull his own Goddess-forsaken weight. And while he knew he owed Elian something for getting him this far, if he was going to be patronizing about it or try and pull the shit he had earlier, Erik was going to cut something very important of his off.

Eyes burning, Erik drew his dagger and stalked forward to open the door. If the guards were currently dealing with the dragon, they wouldn’t be guarding the exit. So long as he could get Elian to blast the gate open before going off on a suicide hunt for a _dragon_ , he could make it the rest of the way on his own. He needed out of here.

Elian laughed in delight, making to follow after him. “In a hurry?”

Erik didn’t dignify that with a response.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we get some more Jade and Hendrik. And a classic leap(?) of faith. 
> 
> A small side story for this is going to come out soon as well :D
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos!!


	5. Falling for You

Elian would never admit to anyone, outside of the One who already shared his head-space, that it was not only a relief that Erik was turning out to be more than some useless pushover, but also more than a bit exciting. Even before he’d conjured treasure out of seeming thin air, (and wouldn’t _that_ be something to look into) Elian enjoyed just talking with him, seeing his reactions. It was amazing what kind of improvement not being mostly dead could make for someone’s liveliness.

Even beyond that, while Elian wasn’t exactly the paragon of upstanding behavior, he was capable of recognizing what would be considered socially acceptable. He just didn’t usually bother. This Erik didn’t seem to be all that fussed with it, either.

For one, Elian was pretty sure that most people’s first response to waking up in a strange place covered in drying blood would not have been to start questioning their rescuer’s methods. And they were actually valid questions from someone who didn’t have a deity whispering at the back of their mind, not complaints about the brutality of said methods.

Erik didn’t seem like he’d be annoying to keep around.

It didn’t hurt that he was fucking adorable.

The way his blue eyes lit up when he got actual food. The snarky little grin when he had something to tease about. The way he’d snap and fuss when he objected to something, his inner fire not doused in the slightest despite the conditions Elian had found him in. All of it fueled something in Elian’s chest that made him want to crush something. Preferably Erik. In a good way.

It was bizarre.

But Elian couldn’t deny that watching determination spark in those pretty eyes, banishing fear and common sense alike, absolutely delighted him. (...and he could have sworn he saw blue blaze red for a moment, though it could have been a trick of the firelight.) It brought on a high he instinctively felt he had to temper, if only because he didn’t know what to do with it. Yggdrasil was being absolutely no help with it, either, seemingly satisfied to sit back and watch.

At least he had a task, moving forward to lead the way back to the gate when Erik quickly realized he had no idea where they were. Being moved while unconscious tended to do that to a person. Elian wasn’t laughing at him, he swore, but he kept to himself that Erik’s disgruntled huffing was cuter than could possibly be fair.

Elian had reasonably gotten a hold of himself by the time they reached the exit of their escape tunnel, having come across several bodies in various states of dismemberment. A few had blocked the path enough to necessitate him pushing, or in more cases kicking, them over the edge into the sewer below. Only a red smear would mark where they’d been.

Stepping up, Elian got a better look at the inlaid door. It would open inward towards them, which meant he would either have to blow off the hinges (two spells requiring precision and a bit of luck) or just brute force the metal out of the way (one spell requiring only strength). The choice was easy enough.

“Stand back a bit,” Elian suggested in Erik’s general direction. “This may break wonky.”

When Erik was out of the predicted blast zone, Elian braced himself and summoned up a regular Zammle (no extra help offered or needed). The bright purple blast did the trick alright, mangling the metal outwards, anything attached to the door’s sturdier side being dragged along with it. The resounding shriek of protesting metal rang out far louder than Elian had intended or expected, leaving his ears ringing momentarily.

Whoops.

“Loud enough for you?” Erik griped halfheartedly, coming up to join him as they continued along the path.

“What?” Elian asked rather loudly, barely keeping a shit-eating grin off of his face as he brought a hand to his ear.

“I sai-” Erik almost fell for it before catching on, the mischief on Elian’s face giving him away, and responding grin bloomed on his own face. “Oh, you bastard.”

Elian snickered, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as stone gave way to grass and weeds, untended but passable. At his best guess it was either evening or early morning, the sun not high enough to spot and the view too restricted to use Yggdrasil as a comparison point.

It wasn’t a terrible view, at that, but there was a bigger problem.

“Well, _that_ was fucking pointless.” Elian frowned, looking around. It looked like a decent place to dispose of a body, but other than that, the sheer drop off of the cliff provided no clear escape beyond death. He strode forward and kicked a small stone off the edge, waiting for the clatter.

One never came. Shrugging, Elian turned around.

Erik had remained a cautious distance from the edge, eyeing it warily. His eyes fixed on Elian as he approached. “It look like we could climb down?”

“Nope. Not unless you’re hiding spider powers or something. Maybe some wings?” At the unimpressed look Erik sent him, Elian shrugged. “Just checking. Guess we’ll have to go back through.”

An imperious voice stopped them in their tracks.

“It appears we will need to make a few additions to the crimes held against you.” In a flash of movement, the tip of a deadly spear threatened to pierce Erik’s unguarded throat. “Hendrik, secure the darkspawn.”

“Yes, Princess Jade.”

_Fucking shit **dammit**_.

Elian glared, anger flaring, the fire of rage building until it felt like it would spill from his eyes, melting his brain to lava. Erik had frozen solid, not daring to move, resignation sitting heavy on his shoulders.

Hendrik advanced, leaving Elian trapped between the cliff edge and starting a fight that would apparently result in Erik’s swift decapitation. Unacceptable. What dumbass left Erik between Elian and a threat? It sure wasn’t him.

The princess continued her pronouncement of guilt, expression darkening as she took in the sheer amount of blood Erik was covered in. “Attempted escape and the brutal murder of _several_ guardsmen will no doubt warrant immediate execution for the two of you, pending the King’s order.”

Erik almost looked relieved.

“Give up, darkspawn,” Hendrik announced, confidence in his every movement. “There’s nowhere to run.”

Elian sneered, limbs trembling with energy as he fought the urge to draw his weapon. As he scrambled for some semblance of self-control, an odd chill branched inside his skull. “Actually, I prefer ‘Harbinger of Calamity’. It has a nice ring to it, y’know?”

Jade’s stance and hold on the spear remained unwavering, showing no sign of any opening Elian could use. He just needed a way to get her fucking spearhead away from Erik, some kind of distraction-

“You really left the old man unguarded just for lil’ old me?” Elian mocked, fishing for a reaction. “I’m flattered, really.”

Unfortunately, only Hendrik reacted, moving forward to uphold royal honor or some tripe. Jade didn’t so much as flinch. No dice, huh…

_A little help here?_

The black knight was almost upon him, and it seemed his call would go unanswered, when suddenly a loud crash echoed from the cave behind the Heliodorians. Bits of the rock face around the tunnel came flying outwards, the very ground they stood on shaking. A large black claw scrabbled at the opening, an angry roar blasting into the clearing seconds before there was another earth shaking collision.

It seemed the black dragon was just as invested in gaining freedom as they were.

“Hendrik!” The princess wasted no time in switching gears, moving to deal with the more pressing threat. The metal of her blade sliced through the air with precision and strength, catching the dragon in a weak spot between its clawed talons and drawing out a pained snarl. More importantly, this meant she no longer held Erik hostage.

Naturally, no proper Knight could leave his Princess without aid. Hendrik rushed forward to slam his greatshield down in front of her and brace just in time to deflect a blast of fire from the now furious dragon, flames splashing around the edge before dying out. Elian knew he wouldn’t get a better chance.

Dashing forward, Elian grabbed the arm of a rather shell-shocked Erik, pulling him out of the blast zone and closer to the edge of the cliff, placing himself in front this time. The beginnings of a very bad idea began to form. The scene was a little too familiar.

_[Hands scrambling to find purchase on the edge of t_ _he Tor_ _._

_A condor’s angry and deafening screech._

_A bright purple shield_ _materializing_ _around him._

_Silence falling._

_A golden flash as hands slipped over the edge.]_

Elian shook his head. It could work, it’d have to work.

_You’ve been quiet, but you’re not mad at me, right?_

He barely waited for Her confirmation before continuing.

_Cool, because I’m about to do something really dumb, and if he doesn’t make it, I’m never talking to you again._

“Okay, so,” Elian started, drawing Erik’s attention away from the fight in front of them. “We’re gonna have to jump.”

“Ah.” Erik managed a grimace that almost looked like a smile. “Choosing our own deaths. Fair enough.”

“ _No_.” Elian tightened his grip on Erik’s arm. If this _fucker_ jumped early... “We-”

The ground shook again, large cracks in the side of the cliff gaping as the black dragon began to fully break through. They didn’t have _time._

“Don’t let go.”

“Wh-?”

Without further warning or explanation, Elian pulled Erik in, clutching him against his chest. In the half-second Elian took to drown his own survival instincts before flinging the both of them off the edge, he felt Erik cling to him in kind.

_Yggdrasil, this better work._

As they began to plummet, Elian turned so that his back was to the ground and would be the first to hit it, even though _they’d better not._ Gritting his teeth as the fall threatened to steal the very air from his lungs, Elian maintained a vice grip on Erik, whose initial shout of terror cut off as the necessary air was ripped away from him. There’d be bruises later, but he’d live. He’d better. If he’d fucked this up and killed him-

Elian barely had time to banish the thought, pressing his face into Erik’s hair and bracing for the worse, when gravity reversed itself, pillowing around them and easing them into the break in their fall. The harsh strain of magic depletion hit Elian like a punch to the chest (or maybe that was just Erik colliding with him just before gaining similar supported weightlessness). Cracking open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, Elian saw the tell-tale purple shimmer surrounding them as they were easily lowered the remaining few feet.

_Cutting it a little close there, huh?_

The two lay there for a moment, just catching their breaths, processing that they weren’t splattered across the ground despite the very cliff they jumped from having disappeared from view, so high up beyond their reach that they couldn’t even hear the fight that must still be going on.

Elian had to consciously relax the grip that he still held around Erik, arms remaining loose around his back and waist, hands trembling slightly from the strain they were released from. He could feel every gasping breath Erik took against his chest, deciding he was more than content to stay like this for as long as he’d be able to.

Bright, relieved laughter broke the relative silence, leaving Elian staring in wonder at the man in his arms before joining in. They were _alive_.

“What even-?” Erik managed to hold himself up on wobbly arms, enough to meet Elian’s gaze. He never finished his thought, struck dumb by the look he was receiving.

He didn’t miss the way Erik’s gaze flicked to his mouth before returning, the pink of his cheeks darkening and question in his eyes, one Elian hoped to answer.

His hand skimmed over green fabric and threaded into bright blue locks, drawing Erik in easily.

_Mine_.

What started as a simple press of the lips deepened when Erik hummed against him, pressing forward as his eyes slid shut. Elian could just barely taste the spice of the buzzberries, and for once he wanted more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued

**Author's Note:**

> Has it really been two years since I posted anything? Jeeeeeeeeez. PSA: Don't sign contracts without a lawyer looking over it. I mean it. Don't. Don't do it. You think you're smart, but companies are smarter and don't care about you.
> 
> This is my Second fic with a jailbreak. Excellent. (No, I haven't forgotten that one, please have mercy.)


End file.
